


rambles

by SaltypoinappleXX



Category: Original Work
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, i dont know, rambles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 20:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltypoinappleXX/pseuds/SaltypoinappleXX
Summary: ????? i need something to postmight turn this into a series of ideas i drafted





	rambles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkleMeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleMeow/gifts).



my life's a complicated one, a swirling maelstrom of melancholy feelings and disjointed moments. sometimes I feel like I'm in a different world because my music blocks out everything else. someone might me talking to me and I'd still only hear my teenage-angsty-phase rock music.

I don't remember much of my childhood. maybe because I didn't do much. once upon a time, I thought that being in an advanced program in school meant my narcissistic self-was sure to get into Harvard something. now, in high school I find myself refusing to believe that was true. I've read countless books and drawn countless drawings, but I'm still stuck with dead inspiration analogous to scattered bodies of butterflies, in the few years that I wanted to do something, anything to get myself known. 

I keep on seeing these beautiful scenes or aesthetic rooms, but I always get to an abrupt stop where I can't express that through words, or something poetic like that, so I resort to painting. good relief but I could still feel something trying to pull me out from that unencouraging dump. it was like that cliche sentence that went like ‘i had a spark but no kindling’ or something. 

the most inspiring thing that ever happened to me were the pensive times of middle school, where I used to stay up till like 3 to 5 in the morning, laying around and maybe video calling my friend. maybe the enemies that appear in my way once in a while, taunting and teasing me help too, but I don't find them that negatively influential, whereas the depressing indie music I listen to get rid of them is probably more tear jerking. 

when I and my friend started talking about the reticent things that nobody talks about, that everybody shies away from where you can only find on things like Tumblr or some shit like that, is when I start questioning. I want to spend the rest of my life with this, this other human being. but I don't want to at the same time. she doesn't seem to want to either. and so we stopped talking. I probably said something wrong some day, and she just left. poof. stopped contacting me. I hated it and cherished those muted days since I found myself being more fruitful, most of the fruit it bore was still sour. no matter how many group calls or good friends I talked to, none of them could really amount to how fun it was to talk to her. I realized that the more I talked to people, the more I was left behind in my work. so I became slightly secluded. about half a year later, I tried to get started talking normally and daily during the summer again. it started at least three hours a day, then five, then eleven. however, while we stifled our conversations, it seemed like she made new friends, and didn't devote all her time to talking to me.

**Author's Note:**

> oof


End file.
